Guess Who's Coming to Dinner (1967)
Matt Drayton: Now Mr. Prentice, clearly a most reasonable man, says he has no wish to offend me but wants to know if I'm some kind of a *nut*. And Mrs. Prentice says that like her husband I'm a burned-out old shell of a man who cannot even remember what it's like to love a woman the way her son loves my daughter. And strange as it seems, that's the first statement made to me all day with which I am prepared to take issue... cause I think you're wrong, you're as wrong as you can be. I admit that I hadn't considered it, hadn't even thought about it, but I know exactly how he feels about her and there is nothing, absolutely nothing that you son feels for my daughter that I didn't feel for Christina. Old- yes. Burned-out- certainly, but I can tell you the memories are still there- clear, intact, indestructible, and they'll be there if I live to be 110. Where John made his mistake I think was in attaching so much importance to what her mother and I might think... because in the final analysis it doesn't matter a damn what we think. The only thing that matters is what they feel, and how much they feel, for each other. And if it's half of what we felt- that's everything. As for you two and the problems you're going to have, they seem almost unimaginable, but you'll have no problem with me, and I think when Christina and I and your mother have some time to work on him you'll have no problem with your father, John. But you do know, I'm sure you know, what you're up against. There'll be 100 million people right here in this country who will be shocked and offended and appalled and the two of you will just have to ride that out, maybe every day for the rest of your lives. You could try to ignore those people, or you could feel sorry for them and for their prejudice and their bigotry and their blind hatred and stupid fears, but where necessary you'll just have to cling tight to each other and say "screw all those people"! Anybody could make a case, a hell of a good case, against your getting married. The arguments are so obvious that nobody has to make them. But you're two wonderful people who happened to fall in love and happened to have a pigmentation problem, and I think that now, no matter what kind of a case some bastard could make against your getting married, there would be only one thing worse, and that would be if - knowing what you two are and knowing what you two have and knowing what you two feel- you didn't get married. Well, Tillie, when the hell are we gonna get some dinner?
John: You listen to me. You say you don't want to tell me how to live my life. So what do you think you've been doing? You tell me what rights I've got or haven't got, and what I owe to you for what you've done for me. Let me tell you something. I owe you nothing! If you carried that bag a million miles, you did what you're supposed to do! Because you brought me into this world. And from that day you owed me everything you could ever do for me like I will owe my son if I ever have another. But you don't own me! You can't tell me when or where I'm out of line, or try to get me to live my life according to your rules. You don't even know what I am, Dad, you don't know who I am. You don't know how I feel, what I think. And if I tried to explain it the rest of your life you will never understand. You are 30 years older than I am. You and your whole lousy generation believes the way it was for you is the way it's got to be. And not until your whole generation has lain down and died will the dead weight of you be off our backs! You understand, you've got to get off my back! Dad... Dad, you're my father. I'm your son. I love you. I always have and I always will. But you think of yourself as a colored man. I think of myself as a man. Now, I've got a decision to make, hm? And I've got to make it alone, and I gotta make it in a hurry. So would you go out there and see after my mother?
Christina Drayton: [to her assistant, Hilary, in the driveway] Now I have some instructions for you. I want you to go straight back to the gallery - Start your motor - When you get to the gallery tell Jennifer that she will be looking after things temporarily, she's to give me a ring if there's anything she can't deal with herself. Then go into the office, and make out a check, for "cash," for the sum of $5,000. Then carefully, but carefully Hilary, remove absolutely everything that might subsequently remind me that you had ever been there, including that yellow thing with the blue bulbs which you have such an affection for. Then take the check, for $5,000, which I feel you deserve, and get - permanently - lost. It's not that I don't want to know you, Hilary - although I don't - it's just that I'm afraid we're not really the sort of people that you can afford to be associated with.
[Hilary opens her mouth to say something]
Christina Drayton: Don't speak, Hilary, just... go.
Matt Drayton: Joanna, this may be the last opportunity I have to tell you to do *anything*, so I telling you, *shut up!*
Matt Drayton: What the hell is it today? Less than 12% of the people in this city are colored people. I can't even have a dish of Oregon Boosenberry without runnin' into one of them.
Joanna Drayton: It never occurred to me that I would fall in love with a Negro, but I have, and nothing's going to change that.
John: After all, a lot of people are going to think we are a shocking pair.
Tillie: I don't care to see a member of my own race getting above himself.
Matt Drayton: When I had ice cream before, I had a special kind of flavor that I liked very much but I can't remember what it was.
Carhop: I'll bring you the list, sir.
Matt Drayton: Oh no. You - you must know what it is.
Carhop: Daquiri Ice, Honeycomb Candy, Cocoa, Coconut, Jamocha Almond Fudge, Mocha Jamocha, Peanut Butter & Jelly, Cinnamon, Banana Mint...
Matt Drayton: Must've been some other place.
Tillie: Civil rights is one thing. This here is somethin' else.
Christina Drayton: I don't think I'm going to faint, but I'll sit down anyway.
John: You know, I just had a thought. Why don't I go check into a hotel and get some rest, and you go find your folks?
Matt Drayton: [to Monsignor Ryan] You're a pontificating old poop!